


fox on the run

by mugsandpugs



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Aliens, Androids, Gen, Guerrilla Warfare, Outer Space, Possession, Spies & Secret Agents, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27123742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: If the only way to free Tom is to rip him from the life he's known, then so be it.Incomplete and discontinued.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	fox on the run

**Chapter One**

Tom Berenson — or rather, the creature piloting the _body_ of Tom Berenson — could be forgiven for letting his mind wander during the daily bike ride to school. It was a calm time, early in the morning; the grass dewy, the woods quiet. Earth was such a beautiful place. For a sightless creature like Temrash 114, using the many senses of a human body to observe his surroundings was entrancing. The warmth of sunlight. The scent of rain. The snarling of wolves...

They were on him in a heartbeat; two from the side, one from the back. He cried out as the pair slammed into him, overturning his bike, and the third took him by the jacket, dragging him past the treeline. Tom's human brain supplied flashes of knowledge about local wolf packs. How they were gentle creatures. How his father had taught him to leave wildlife alone, and it would return the favor. There were other stories, too; ideas about rabies; something about a 'Little Red Riding Hood.'

Temrash 114 ignored all of this. Tom was being stupid. Of _course_ these weren't real wolves, driven mad by rabies and autumnal hunger. Local activity from Andalite bandits was being tracked, and it was speculated that they called this city their home.

Hurting them wasn't enough. They could simply de-morph and lose any injuries sustained. If he wanted to survive, he'd need to kill or capture them. Preferably the latter. If he brought a live Andelite bandit to Visser Three, he would be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams. So when he twisted, grabbing a sizable rock, and slammed it into the first wolf's face, it was not with intent to kill. The animal yelped, rearing, releasing his forearm. Giving him enough leverage to reach into Tom's school bag and produce a bowie knife, which he used to slash at another wolf's flank. Hot blood soaked his knife, his fist. Human weapons; so primitive.

The third wolf, angered by this attack on its brothers, slammed large paws into his chest and fastened dagger-like teeth around his throat. Not piercing; merely holding. If he'd had any doubts about the authenticity of the animals, it vanished. A real wolf would _not_ show such restraint.

But this body had something theirs did not: Hands and articulated fingers. Grabbing one triangular ear, "Tom" wrenched it until it popped, then stuck a finger into the animal's eye, twisting. Its screams filled the forest.

Rolling from under the writhing beast's body, "Tom" leapt to his feet. Ah, the bipedal shape of humans; it made childbirth a deadly pursuit, but still set them apart from their lessers. It allowed them to hold their gigantic brains high off the ground and see things for the way they were. Planting a boot on the animal's head, he raised his knife, aiming for the brainstem. He would bring his Visser this Andalite, paralyzed or not. He struck—

Only for an arm, as thick around as a python, to snag his waist and fling him into the nearest tree.

The silverback gorilla was an inch from his face. It roared, spraying him with saliva, yellowed fangs exposed. Deep inside, Tom was afraid, crying and cursing and begging for his mother. Temrash 114 often forgot how young the boy really was.

The gorilla's enormous hand pressed flat to his chest, keeping him immobile against the tree. With the other, it ripped the knife away from him, throwing it deep into the woods. Then it did something strange. Still pinning Tom with an elbow, it took hold of his left arm, gripping both his wrist and his elbow with a few inches of space in between. In this position, Tom and Temrash 114 were fearfully aware of the fragility of Tom's bones.

Behind the gorilla, the two wolves who weren't too injured to stand had taken Tom's school bag and were ripping it open, scattering his belongings through the trees. One grabbed his bike by the back tire and dragged it to the base of a tree. What on earth could they be planning? And _why_ had they targeted a low-ranking Yeerk like him; a mere high school student with little power and few connections? It wasn't as though anyone would _care_ if he died...

From the depths of the forest emerged a graceful shape, ethereal and lovely in the darkness. Roughly the size of an earthworld deer, its fur tan and blue to match the landscape of a planet far away, the juvenile Andelite approached on slender legs; dainty hooves. All four of its eyes watched "Tom" with burning intensity.

Tom thought: _beautiful._

Temrash 114 thought: _and this is how we die._

Raising its whiplike tail, the Andelite aimed a blade sharp enough to cleave a tree in two. The gorilla spaced its hands further apart, giving the Andalite a clear target to aim for.

The Andalite struck. At the last possible moment, the gorilla raised a hand and pressed it flat to Tom's mouth, muffling his screams.

<I'm sorry, Tom,> the Andalite directed in thoughtspeak, addressing the boy, and not the alien who controlled his life. <We take no pleasure in these actions. This is the only way.>

As it tossed Tom's severed arm aside, one of the wolves leapt and caught it in midair.

**Chapter Two**

At the time of his brother's dismemberment and kidnapping, Jake Berenson was twitching his way through math. He felt sick with anxiety, his stomach roiling with terrible possibilities. What if his friends failed? What if the thing controlling Tom hurt, or even killed, them? What if they took it too far; didn't stop his bleeding in time? Between Cassie's veterinary skills and Ax's alien first aid, the group felt confident that their plan would be a success... But it wasn't _their_ brother's life on the line, now, was it?

The door creaked open, and in stepped Rachel, flawless and smiling like a model off _Seventeen_ magazine. She handed their teacher her late pass with an apologetic little mumble: "I slept in this morning."

She hadn't _slept in._ She'd been a wolf with her fangs in her older cousin's leg. Jake resisted the urge to stare at her; to demand answers.

The clock above the door seemed to tick slower and slower, entire decades passing between seconds. By the time the bell rang, releasing them to second period, he'd worked himself into a near-panic. He released some energy bumping into Rachel as they filed out the door... Perhaps too hard, because she rubbed her arm and glared at him.

"Hey," he teased, forcing a laugh that sounded hysterical, even to his own ears. "Slept in, huh? Spent too much time looking in the mirror last night?"

She wrinkled her nose. "A little birdie tells me that your girlfriend is home with a headache. What'd you _do;_ talk her ear off about basketball all night?"

So Cassie had been injured, but she was alive. Tobias, too. And if that was the first news she imparted, he could believe with some confidence that everyone else was fine. His worry eased, but did not disappear. He wished he could talk freely, but with Yeerks invading the world, even the walls had ears. Rachel turning her back on him and walking towards the gym was the most irritating choice, but it was also the _right_ one.

Jake survived the rest of his classes with slightly less anxiety than before. Seeing Marco running on the track with the rest of fourth-period gym was a relief, for sure.

He'd anticipated Tom's absence going unnoticed until his parents returned from work and got the robotic _'Your son or daughter has missed one or more classes'_ message on their voicemail. They'd wonder where Tom was; call the houses of all his friends; start to get upset...

He didn't have to wait that long. Halfway through his eighth — and final — period, his teacher got a call to send him to the front office. With a stomach full of swarming butterflies, he told himself to walk slowly; not to run; not to panic.

Rachel was waiting for him there, and so was her mother. His aunt was crying. Rachel was doing a good job at looking confused.

"Aunt Naomi?" he asked, and she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh, sweetheart," she sobbed. "I'm so, _so_ sorry..."

Jake looked at the school secretary; the counselor. He didn't have to force the look of panic on his face. They both reached for the pair at the same time. "Ma'am..." "Jake..." "You'd all better come into my office."

Marco had spent a lot of time in the school counselor's office after his mother "died." He'd spent enough time complaining about it that Jake knew what to expect. He chose the seat next to Rachel's across from the counselor's desk, accepting the bottle of water she handed to him from her mini-fridge. Aunt Naomi reached across her daughter's lap to hold Jake's hand. She was still crying, her fancy makeup smudged, but managed to do so quietly.

The school counselor, clearly trained in handling family emergencies, spoke in a soft, soothing voice. She explained how a jogger had spotted an abandoned bicycle by the side of the road and, investigating further, discovered a student's scattered schoolwork. Fearing a child had had an accident, the jogger searched until she found "the scene of an attack."

"Like an animal attack?" Rachel asked.

"Police haven't revealed much information yet," the counselor replied. "But Jake, it looks like your brother Tom is missing."

She didn't add 'missing, presumed dead.' She didn't explain that the 'scene of the attack' involved a lethal amount of blood; a severed limb; but Jake felt the heaviness of the truth all the same.

**Chapter 3**

Thank God, thank _God_ their families had agreed that Rachel should spend the night at Jake's house. They'd made up the air mattress for her, and both children lay in the dark, listening to the adults' voices rising from the air vent.

"Where are your sisters?" Jake asked, speaking quietly.

"Mom took them to a hotel. She says they're too young for all this."

Through the vents, Rachel's father was speaking. A normally affable man, he could get beligerant after he'd been drinking. _All_ of them had been drinking tonight. "But they don't know he's dead, right?!" he demanded.

"With that much blood? What do you expect!" Jake's mother had always butted heads with her brother-in-law, and tonight she'd been pushed past her breaking point. "He's fucking dead, Steve! My baby is _dead,_ and some psycho killed him!"

Jake's father just. Sobbed. Just _sobbed,_ silent and broken.

His insides curdling in shame, in guilt, Jake curled in his bed. He pulled the pillow over his head. It would be so easy to slip downstairs; to tell everyone that it was alright; that Tom was alive, and he knew exactly where to find him. To end their anguish and stop their tears. But that would involve telling them everything, and one or all of them could easily be a controller. To fear one's own family was perhaps the lowest feeling of all.

"Hey." Rachel stood, sitting on the end of the bed. "Come on. We're doing the right thing. Don't chicken out now."

"Cutting my brother's arm off doesn't feel like 'the right thing,' Rach."

"Okay first off, _you_ didn't cut his arm off; Ax did."

"Oh, well. _That_ makes it okay, then."

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Rachel fell back on his bed and closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Jake did the same. The door creaked open, and they both heard the sound of Jake's father breathing. He looked at them; approached; lifted Rachel properly onto the bed, and pulled the blanket off her air mattress to tuck her in. He touched Jake's face, smoothing his hair out.

"Love you, buddy," he whispered, the tremors in his voice enough to send knives of guilt into Jake's guts. He left the room, closing the door behind himself, and returned downstairs to where his brother and wife screamed at each other. A moment later, they heard a tapping on the window.

"Tobias." Rachel breathed, and leaned over Jake's legs to unlatch his window. The large bird fluttered in, careful to land where Rachel's pajamas protected her shoulder. His talons were sharp.

"Hey," Jake sat up, looking at their friend. "Updates?"

<Tom is with the Chee now. Ax says they've cauterized his wound, and the synthetic blood is keeping him alive. He's in an induced coma until his Yeerk dies.>

Jake sagged in relief, pressing his face into Rachel's shoulder. Some of the sick knots of worry in his stomach began to relax. Tobias groomed Jake's hair like he might do his own feathers. It was an odd, but comforting, gesture.

Rachel, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of affection and touching, pulled back. Tobias fluttered from her shoulder to the headboard. <Ax is waiting for you outside Cassie's house,> he explained. <Time to switch?>

Jake nodded, and Tobias began to morph, his bird body growing longer as his feathers receded. His legs, his knees, his throat... Jake didn't think he could handle watching a bird turn into... Well, _himself._ He stripped out of his pajamas as he began his owl morph, the bird’s eyes far more adept at travelling in the dark than a human or a hawk's would be.

<Don't fall asleep,> he warned his friends. <I've got my alarm set for every ninety minutes. I don't want two 'me's running around forever.>

<Don't worry, Jake. I love you, but I don't really want to _be_ you.>

He caught a very odd glimpse of himself (really Tobias) putting his pajamas on before laying down in bed, and then he launched out the window, feathers making silent adjustments as he soared through the night. An owl wasn't as powerful a flyer as his falcon morph, but it was far more suited to the hour. It was a long flight to the barns, however, and he was tired by the time he spotted Ax's blue flank between the trees. It took longer than usual to resume his own form.

<Hello, Prince Jake.>

Jake was too fatigued, physically and emotionally, to tell the alien not to call him 'prince.' He just sighed and clapped a hand on Ax's shoulder, then began acquiring his DNA for the next stage of their plan.

<That feels very strange,> Ax observed, sounding sleepy. <I don't think I like it.>

"Sorry, buddy. I promise not to ever do anything sketchy with your form."

<Sketchy?>

"Inappropriate. Dishonorable. I won't hurt your reputation."

<I know, Prince Jake. If we can't trust each other, then who _can_ we trust?>

They talked for some time before Jake regained the energy needed to re-morph his owl. Ax watched him fly away, then returned to his bed of stamped grass in the roots of tall oaks.

**Chapter 4**

They'd agreed that Jake must only wear an Andalite's body around his brother, even if Tom was unconscious. Any confirmation of Jake's identity as an Animorph would only prove deadly, should Tom ever get re-captured. In saving his brother's life, he'd lost him permanently. Would it be worth it?

He watched his brother sleep with all four of Ax's eyes, his chest rising and falling easily. Tom looked younger than his seventeen years like this, in soft blankets with alien medical equipment all around. The stump of his severed arm had been bandaged in what looked like flesh-colored cobwebs.

<Will you be able to grow him a new arm?> Jake asked Erek. Erek wasn't a medical Chee, but had agreed to be involved in Tom's case as a favor to his friends.

The Chee considered. He'd shed his human disguise and now stood before Jake a metallic canine. "Most of our biological technology is designed for dogs," he explained. "But of course we have serviced other mammals who've been amputated. We could _grow_ a limb for him, but _attaching_ it would be a different story. When he regains consciousness, we'll discuss prosthetic options."

<Right,> Jake nodded. <How is the 'growing' of his other body going, by the way?>

He had brought the Chee Tom's comb and toothbrush months ago, giving them plenty of DNA to grow a dead clone with. Growing 'dead meat' was relatively easy for them, Erek insisted.

Erek brightened. "Ah, yes! Come and see."

He trotted off, metal paws clicking the cement floors, and Jake followed him on four hooves. They turned down hallway after hallway of the hospital, which was closer to a mechanic's shop, though every now and then Jake spotted some equipment he almost recognized from veterinary offices. The Chee might have been AI, but their canine companions weren't.

Finally Jake was taken to a small, dark room and pointed to what looked like a glass coffin, where silvery fluid flowed, pushed by a filter. Unlatching the 'coffin,' Erek depressed a button on the floor that made some of the fluid drain. And inside that coffin... Was Tom.

Or, a replica of his body, anyway. Naked and pale and utterly bland, his hair was long enough to hide his face. Jake reached, then hesitated.

"You can touch it," Erek encouraged. "There's nothing that will hurt you."

With delicate Andelite fingers, Jake pushed the body's wet hair back to look at his face.

<We need to break and heal his — _its!_ — nose,> Jake told Erek. <The real Tom has a bump here. And he has scarring on his stomach from gallbladder surgery...>

"We will match this body with Tom's," Erek assured. "But as for the, ah... Cause of death... We will leave that to you Animorphs."

Unease made Jake squirm. He knew this clone was just meat; that it wasn't, had never been, alive. But the thought of savaging a meat-doll identical to his brother was uncomfortable, to say the least. Hopefully, Rachel would be up to the task.

<Erek?> Jake asked, just needing to make sure. <You're certain that this thing isn't alive? It can't feel pain when we... When we damage it?>

Erek looked at him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We Chee can do a great many things. I myself have delivered countless litters of puppies for our canine friends. But no, Jake; we cannot _create_ life."

If Jake had had a mouth, he would've breathed a sigh of relief.

**Chapter 5**

With his friends taking turns at pretending to be him, Jake stayed with the Chee for two full days. The androids were excellent at keeping track of time, reminding Jake when he needed to demorph or risk spending his life an Andelite. He slept in a bed full of dogs, laughing when they snuggled his flanks or sniffed curiously at his eye-stalks. He wore a sheath on his tail-blade to avoid hurting himself, or them.

It was the morning of the third day that Erek woke him, shaking his shoulder. "Jake... It's time."

<Huh?> Freeing his tiny arm from underneath a border collie, Jake wiped the crust that formed under all four of his eyes during sleep. <To morph?>

"Your brother is experiencing a lot of brain activity. His Yeerk is resisting the anesthesia in its death throes."

_Death throes..._

Scrambling out of the puppy-filled nest, Jake galloped through the halls of the Chee hospital to the room he now knew as Tom's. Tom's table had been lowered to fit half-into what looked like a small MRI machine. His bare feet looked cold.

Projected on large, flat screens was footage of Tom's brain; the crevices of each fold filled with a blobby substance that was the Yeerk. The creature wrapped itself so intimately around every delicate part that the best brain surgeon in the world couldn't separate the two without destroying them both.

As Jake watched, the Yeerk twitched and flexed, inching closer and closer to his left ear canal. It was agony to watch. Jake curled his tail, wanting nothing more than to dice the filth into tiny pieces the moment it emerged. It weighed just over an ounce, and still it had destroyed their lives so completely...

It took a long time. So long that Jake had to step out; de-morph and remorph; before returning.

The androids waited until the alien was most of the way out before shutting off their computers and slowly, slowly rolling him out of the MRI machine. The blind animal reacted; perhaps not to the change in light, but of airflow. It cringed, wanting the warm safety of Tom's head.

Jake fought the urge to dive in and snatch the thing; to hurl it across the room. It was still tangled in Tom's brain, and Jake would not damage his brother again.

"See how it shakes and curls?" Erek whispered. "It's seizing. Death from Kandrona starvation is said to be agony."

<Good,> Jake replied with cold savagery.

The peace-loving android looked discomfited, but not surprised. "Oh, Jake," he sighed. "You are very young yet."

Compared to an ancient Chee, maybe. Jake hadn't felt "young" in years.

When the last of the creature's tail plopped free, Jake knew he had very little time left. Soon, it would die. It was the palest Jake had ever seen a Yeerk; an ashy white like coals after burning.

Leaning past Erek, Jake scooped the revolting thing up in his hand. He turned and left the room. When he was sure he was nowhere near any windows to Tom's room, he re-morphed and dangled the thing above his human face, studying it with cold eyes.

"So," Jake said. He wanted to demand answers. _Why,_ he wanted to ask. _Why my brother? Why my family? Did you enjoy torturing him all these years?_

The dying Yeerk, of course, did not reply. But Cassie insisted that Yeerks possessed some hearing ability. It knew who was speaking to it.

In the end, he asked nothing at all. Instead, holding it tight in his fist, Jake acquired the alien's DNA.

Then he dropped it to the floor and crushed it beneath his heel.

**Chapter 6**

Rachel wasn't surprised when Jake tasked her with destroying Tom's fake body. Who else would do it? Who else _could?_

The hard part was choosing the right morph for the job. It had to be something local; elephant bristle or grizzly fur would put the forensics team in a tizzy. It was easy enough taking on an Andelite morph to dismember it, and it only made sense; Andelite tail-blades _were_ the weapon that had severed his arm. Might as well cut off his head and feet with it, too.

Its. _Its_ head and feet. This was not Tom. Rachel was not hacking her cousin to pieces, no matter how much it looked and smelled and bled like him.

It was a good thing she'd given up on sanity long ago. If she hadn't, this would have sent her straight over the edge.

In the end, she settled for a simple wolf morph. Tobias, gliding overhead, guided her to a part of the forest that rangers had yet to check. Piece by piece, she carried "Tom" there. Save for his left arm, of course; they already had _that_ in evidence.

She let her creativity flow; tossing bits into trees, half-burying others. Tobias himself carefully carried the head into some branches, so that it would be preserved when the Yeerk-cops inevitably came looking. Running through bushes and trailing intestines like party streamers, Rachel dropped her mouthful, threw her head back, and howled; a joyful howl; a _'hey! I found some food!'_ howl.

The other wolves answered soon enough, appearing in hopes of a snack. Wolves weren't man-hunters by nature, but they scavenged more than people assumed. A free meal was a free meal.

<You _know_ this is just gonna set off the anti-wolf nutballs,>Tobias remarked warily, watching the feast with his avian head cocked. <This might be the push they need to really crack down… ‘Local Teen Brutalized by Savage Wolves’...>

Rachel felt a curl of guilt in her belly. Hopefully, cops would keep the details of Tom Berenson's “death” quiet. If not...

Well. She was an Animorph. She protected the helpless by killing the guilty. She'd keep the wolves safe, one way or another.

_To be continued..._


End file.
